


It's technically morning but who cares

by nxttime



Series: Never Too Late [1]
Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: (why isn't that a tag), Gen, Jason's a good brother, Robins stick together, They're all good brothers, through thick and thin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-13 23:19:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16901694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nxttime/pseuds/nxttime
Summary: Ask him how he got here, and Jason’s answer will be his idiotic, incompetent, bubbly brother being a moron.Or, part one in my "Never Too Late" series!





	It's technically morning but who cares

**Author's Note:**

> Have some bro bonding! *tosses fic* (There are four/five other parts to this, but I won’t say when those will be up because that would require me to know. Which I never really do ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯)

Ask him how he got here, and Jason’s answer will be his idiotic, incompetent, bubbly brother being a moron.

“On your six!”

Jason ducks just in time to avoid a very crowbar-looking pipe, raising his gun and shooting the thug’s hand as he does. The thug swears almost as colorfully as Jason himself does, clutching at his hand that has nothing more than a large red welt on it.

Knocking the guy out would be simple if there weren’t others rushing him right now. As it is, Jason’s forced to twist to the right, unoccupied hand shooting out to grab the foot that had barely missed him and twisting it sharply, a loud snap and a cry sounding. Immediately after, the other two guys attack at the same time, one aiming high and the other one low.

“Look, Nightwing, the hired help learned a new trick!” The smart-mouthing is to distract himself, mainly, and if the goons get distracted too then it’s just a plus.

Thug going low tries to sweep Jason’s feet out from under him, forcing Jason to jump as thug going high strikes out with a fist and catches his helmet with a meaty hand.

Jason falls to the ground, raising his gun to fire off a few bullets at the two from his splendid vantage point on the ground. He hears a yelp and knows he’s hit at least one moron before a bullet whizzes by his helmet and he instinctively jerks in the opposite direction. He whips his head over to the only two left standing—thug that had gone low and one other that Nightwing’s taking care of.

Lifting a hand to the jaw of his helmet, Jason rubs it as if the metal were sore. “Your buddy got a good one in,” he muses. “Now I’m ticked.”

Thug going low—know what? He looks like a Randy—brandished a gun from… somewhere, Jason’s not going to dwell on it, and sneers down at him. “Oh yeah? What’re y’gonna do ‘bout it Hood?”

Jason smiles under the helmet. “Oh my goodness gracious I’ve been bamboozled!”

Randy paused, face twisting in confusion. “What the f—”

He doesn’t get to finish the sentence because Dick decides he’s done letting Jason play damsel in distress, taking Randy out with an escrima to the back of the head.

Dick grins down at Jason, extending a hand. “Seriously?”

Jason flips him the bird. “Shut up. You don’t get to judge me.”

The older vigilante chuckles, swaying on his feet, and Jason’s suddenly concerned.

He scowls, ignores the offered hand, pushing himself upright, and grabs Dick’s chin as he peels the domino mask off.

Dick makes a noise of protest that Jason ignores because the cameras in the warehouse are all deactivated and the thugs are out cold.

When he starts to try and squirm out of Jason’s grip, he tightens it. Dick huffs and tries turning his head away.

“Damn it, Dick, stop that!”

“I’m _fine_ Little Wing!”

Jason narrows his eyes and forces Dick to look at him again. His eyes take in the details of Dick’s—the wide pupils, the bruises under his eyes—and Jason sighs.

“You _dumbass_ ,” he spits, slapping the domino back on Dick’s face roughly. Dick yelps at the sting and Jason ignores him as he grabs Dick by the wrist and starts dragging him to his motorcycle.

Confused, Dick asks, “Little Wing?”

Jason doesn’t answer him as he lets him go and swings a leg over the bike, turns it on, revs the engine, and looks at Dick. “Get on, and hold on to me tight. I don’t want you slipping off because you’re too loopy. I don’t need Bruce lighting a match under my ass because of your idiocy.” When Dick doesn’t move Jason huffs. “ _Today,_ Golden Bird.”

Dick does as he’s told, and Jason makes sure he’s got a good grip on him, then Jason revs the engine again and they’re racing down the streets of Gotham, weaving through traffic. Dick keeps his hold on Jason, tightening his arms subtly, and his head rests on Jason’s back as Jason drives the motorcycle like a (maniac) _pro_.

They screech to a stop once they’ve reached Jason’s safe house in the Narrows. Jason turns the bike off, takes the keys out of the ignition, then starts to dismount as he removes Dick’s arms from his waist.

Dick lifts a hand to his face and starts to take the domino off before Jason grabs the wrist he’s raising and yanks him off the motorcycle.

“Not yet, _Nightwing_.”

Dick seems to get the implication as he merely whines and lets himself be dragged after his little brother.

Once they’re inside, Jason tosses the keys in a bowl on a table by the door and sheds his jacket, throwing it on the couch as he passes it. The helmet is the next thing to come off with a ‘ _click-hiss_ ’, and is tossed with the jacket on the couch.

Dick stumbles over to the couch, grabs the helmet, and flops down on the cushions with the helmet on his chest. He then grabs a pillow to put over his face with a groan.

Jason raises a brow at his brother but doesn’t say anything as he goes to change in his room.

When he comes out maybe five minutes later, Jason hears soft snores coming from the couch and snorts. _Knew it,_ he mentally pats himself on the back for his observation skills.

Clapping his hands together loudly, Jason snickers when Dick jolts and falls off the couch.

Dick whines when he sees Jason. “Why?”

“Change out of that stripper costume, you dunce,” Jason tosses a shirt and pajama pants at his brother, who catches the articles of clothing after fumbling for a bit.

Jason gestures to the hall. “Second door to your left is the bathroom. First door is the bedroom. I’m taking the couch.”

When Dick stands up and opens his mouth to protest, Jason holds up a hand. “Shut up. I don’t want to hear it. Take the bed willingly or I’m knocking you out and leaving you on the bed regardless. Your choice.”

Dick pouts and Jason rolls his eyes, grabbing Dick by the shoulders and steering him to the bathroom.

Having dropped the annoying older brother off to change, Jason goes to make something quick for… what time is it?

He glances at a clock.

02:45 am. Huh. Apparently, Jason’s making a very early breakfast.

…yeah, whatever, it’s still dark out so it’s dinner in Jason’s mind.

Dick walks out of the bathroom changed, and the clothes looks too big on him. Not by much, but anybody can tell it’s not his.

Blearily blinking he says, “Jay, your shirt is too big on me.”

Jason turns back to the sandwiches he’s making with a shrug. “D’nno what to tell you. That’s the smallest one I have.”

“Yeah, well, stop growing. Just _shrink._ I miss being taller than you,” Dick mumbles as he takes a seat at the concrete island and perches his head up on his hand. “You’re my _little_ brother. Not s’posed to be taller. S’not fair.”

Snorting, Jason hands Dick his food, leaning back on the counter as he gets started on his.

Dick eats the food silently, looking like he’d pass out at any given second, and Jason is content with the quiet. It’s something that next to never exists when one is in the presence of Dick “Chatterbox” Grayson. Jason decides to make the most out of it.

When he’s finished with the food, Jason stand up and stretches, popping his back and sighing.

He glances over at Dick, only to find that he’d passed out holding the semi-eaten sandwich. His hand propped his head up, mouth open as he snored silently.

Sighing, Jason rubs at his forehead. Of course Dick’d fallen asleep _in a chair._ He should’ve known.

Figuring he’d be a good brother just this once, Jason carefully slips the sandwich out of Dick’s hand and puts it in the fridge for later, moving to collect Dick in his arms afterwards and being gentle so he doesn’t wake the older as he does.

…Jason had underestimated how cuddly Dick was when he slept.

The acrobat now has both arms around Jason’s neck, legs curled around his arm and, if he’s being honest, Jason is rather mortified.

How is he supposed to escape this?

With a stifled groan, Jason carries Dick to the bedroom before taking twenty minutes untangling himself from his older brother. Every time he was almost free, Dick would contort in an odd way and trap him again.

Finally, Jason is free.

…and exhausted. Geez, Dick’s hugs are worse than straightjackets.

With a sigh, Jason curls up on the couch, propping his head up on a pillow and taking a mental note to keep an eye on Dick for a while to make sure his older brother isn’t being a mindless moron.

Surprisingly, it doesn’t take him long to fall into a restful sleep.

* * *

 

The next morning he wakes up to a loud ‘ _crash’_ sound, and he groans into the pillow.

“Diiii _iicckkkk!!!!”_

“Good morning Little Wing!”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys liked part one! Part two is in the works, right now, so expect that sometime in the future!
> 
> God bless!


End file.
